I will never forget that day. My wife and my father had concealed their twisted connection from me, until I witnessed it with my own eyes...
A Chaotic Prelude
The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere felt wrong. My father stood with his back to us, pouring coffee. Sara tensed slightly, her hand resting lightly on my arm. "Dad, we're here," I called out. He turned, the ceramic mug still in his hand. The instant he saw Sara, he froze, as if struck by an invisible blow. Then, the mug slipped from his grasp. It hit the floor with a loud crack, shattering into pieces, sending scalding coffee spraying everywhere. Sara flinched back.
Father's Reaction
"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath, dropping hastily to gather the shards. His movements were clumsy, jerky—nothing like his usual self. He never lifted his eyes to Sara, offering no welcome or apology. The floor was a mess, the air thick and heavy. Sara looked at me, bewildered. I tried to smooth things over: "Dad, this is Sara." He grunted a muffled "hmm," still avoiding her gaze. The awkwardness clung to the room, persisting even after he finished cleaning, throughout which he never once looked Sara directly in the face.
Oppressive Silence
Dinner was suffocating. Father kept his head down, sawing at his steak, the screech of knife on plate unnervingly loud. I asked several times about his health, his work, only to be met with monosyllables: "Hmm," "Alright," "Same as always." Sara tried engaging him—about the weather, the new pastor at the community church. He either nodded vaguely or pretended not to hear. The meal sat like a stone in my gut. Afterward, as she helped with the dishes...
The First Unsettling Gaze
I stood by the kitchen doorway. Father leaned against the refrigerator, drinking water. He stood there, his gaze fixed over my shoulder, resting with unnerving stillness on Sara's busy figure. It wasn't the look a father-in-law gives his daughter-in-law. It was too deep, too intense—like scrutinizing a precious, long-lost artifact now tragically altered, a profound, almost unbearable pain swirling within. Oblivious, Sara wiped the counter. My throat tightened; I coughed. Father startled, his eyes snapping away as he fumbled with his glass and hurried off.
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